Chapter 16: The Pranking War Begins
The note was simple: I was here while you slept. Nice paintings. -R.
I watched from across the street as Klaus found it.
The scream of rage was beautiful.
Furniture crashed. Canvas ripped. Klaus's voice carried through the compound's open windows, cursing in languages I didn't recognize. Elijah appeared in the doorway, probably trying to calm him down, and got a paintbrush thrown at his head for his trouble.
Mission accomplished.
I'd compelled a compelled human to sneak in at dawn—right after Klaus went to sleep, before anyone was awake—and leave the note in his locked studio. Impossible. No one should have been able to get in.
And that's what would drive Klaus absolutely insane.
The paranoia. The how. The realization that someone could walk into his most private space and he'd never know.
I walked away grinning like an idiot. This was childish. Petty. Completely unnecessary.
And so satisfying.
Klaus's retaliation came three days later.
I was walking through the warehouse district, hood up, when I felt them. Ten vampires, arranged in an ambush pattern, waiting for me to pass through their kill zone.
Really, Klaus? This is the best you've got?
I stopped walking. Reached out through the bloodline connection. Felt their blood humming, ready to obey.
"Gentlemen," I called out. "I know you're there. Come out, please."
They emerged from shadows, trying to look threatening. It might have worked on a normal vampire. On me? They just looked like puppets playing soldier.
"Klaus sent you," I said.
The leader—young guy, maybe turned in the 90s—nodded. "He wants you brought in. Peacefully if possible."
"And if I say no?"
"Then not peacefully."
I smiled. Met his eyes. "I have a better idea. All of you are going to walk to Marcel's compound. You're going to arrange yourselves in the courtyard. And then you're going to perform the Macarena. Synchronized. For twenty minutes."
Confusion. Horror. Then compulsion took hold.
All ten turned and walked away like zombies. I followed at a distance, curious if they'd actually do it.
They did.
I watched from a rooftop as ten of Klaus's elite vampires arranged themselves in neat rows in Marcel's courtyard and started dancing. The Macarena. Perfectly synchronized. While Marcel's people gathered to watch, pointing and laughing.
Marcel himself appeared, phone already out, clearly calling Klaus.
I left before anyone noticed me, laughing so hard my sides hurt.
The war escalated.
Klaus left compelled humans following me around the city. I had them spontaneously breakdance whenever they saw Klaus.
Klaus hired a witch to trace my movements. I compelled her to tell Klaus I was hiding in the sewers. He spent three hours searching.
Klaus set up cameras in the warehouse district. I compelled the monitoring company to replace all footage of me with videos of puppies.
Klaus, in a fit of creative rage, compelled fifty humans to stand outside my warehouse chanting "Roy is paranoid" at 3 AM. I slept through it—didn't need sleep anyway—and in the morning, compelled them all to go to Klaus's compound and serenade him with "Never Gonna Give You Up."
Rebekah found me at a café a week into the war.
"You," she said, sitting across from me without invitation, "are my new favorite person."
"Am I?"
"I've spent a thousand years watching Nik destroy things in paranoid rages. You've made it entertaining." She leaned forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Tell me you have more planned."
"Always."
"Excellent. I want in."
I raised an eyebrow. "You want to prank your own brother?"
"Darling, I've been pranking him for centuries. But never with someone who can compel his people into choreographed disasters." She grinned. "What if I told you I know exactly when he sleeps, where he hides his favorite paintings, and which vampires are most loyal?"
"I'd say you're a terrible sister and I like you already."
Her laugh was genuine joy. Probably hadn't laughed like that in decades. "Oh, we're going to be excellent friends. Now. Tell me—can you actually make Nik serve breakfast while compelled?"
"I can make him do anything while compelled. He'd be aware of it the whole time, though. Might cross a line from prank into genuine torture."
"Mm. Save that one for special occasions, then." She pulled out her phone. "Here's what I'm thinking: Nik has a collection of journals hidden in his room. Private thoughts, centuries of paranoia documented. What if those journals suddenly appeared in the compound's library? Not stolen, just... relocated?"
"Devious."
"I learned from the best—a thousand years of Nik's schemes." She stood, smoothed her dress. "I'll provide intel. You provide impossible infiltrations. Together, we make my brother's paranoia truly spectacular."
"Why are you doing this?"
Her expression softened. "Because Nik needs to laugh. He's so caught up in his rage and fear that he's forgotten how to be happy. These pranks? They're ridiculous, childish, and they force him to focus on something other than control and betrayal. Even if he doesn't realize it, you're helping him."
"That's surprisingly insightful."
"I'm surprisingly insightful." She walked away, then called over her shoulder: "Tuesday. 2 AM. He'll be painting in his studio. Doors will be mysteriously unlocked."
She disappeared into the crowd.
I sat at the café, coffee cooling in front of me, and tried to process what just happened. I'd accidentally recruited Rebekah into a prank war against Klaus. The same Klaus who was supposed to be my enemy's son. Who I should be plotting against, not pranking.
But the laughter felt good. Better than brooding. Better than obsessing over revenge I wasn't strong enough to take yet.
And maybe—maybe—Rebekah was right. Maybe Klaus needed this. Needed something ridiculous to focus on instead of his endless paranoia.
You're getting soft, I told myself. This is the son of your torturers. You should hate him.
But I didn't. Not really. Klaus was victim too, in his own way. Made into a monster by parents who couldn't love him properly. And watching him lose his mind over harmless pranks was more cathartic than plotting his death.
Fine. We'll keep pranking. For now.
Tuesday came. 2 AM. I compelled a human to place another note in Klaus's studio: Your journals are very enlightening. Especially the entries about Elijah's hair routine. -R.
I hadn't actually read the journals—didn't need to. Klaus's imagination would fill in the blanks.
The roar of fury echoed through the French Quarter.
I went home grinning.
Marcel cornered me the next day.
"Stop," he said without preamble.
"Stop what?"
"Making Klaus paranoid. He's tearing apart my city looking for you, interrogating my people, setting up surveillance everywhere." Marcel's voice was tired. "I appreciate that you're not actually trying to hurt him, but the collateral damage is getting expensive."
"He started it."
"And you're escalating it. Be the adult, Roy."
"I'm literally older than time."
"Then act like it."
Fair point.
"I'll dial it back," I said. "No more public humiliation of his vampires. But the notes stay. They're private between us."
"Fine. Just... keep it contained." Marcel left, muttering about immortals and their goddamn drama.
I reduced the pranks to once a week. Small things. Notes. Minor compulsions. Enough to keep Klaus on his toes without destroying Marcel's city.
And weirdly, Klaus seemed almost... entertained?
I caught him smiling once. Just for a second, before he realized I was watching and the paranoid mask came back. But the smile had been there.
Maybe Rebekah was right. Maybe this was good for him.
Or maybe I was deluding myself, getting attached to people I should keep at arm's length.
Either way, the pranking war had officially become tradition. And I wasn't stopping until Klaus learned to laugh at himself.
That might take a century or two.
Good thing we had time.
Author's Note / Promotion:
Your Reviews and Power Stones are the best way to show support. They help me know what you're enjoying and bring in new readers!
You don't have to. Get instant access to more content by supporting me on Patreon. I have three options so you can pick how far ahead you want to be:
🪙 Silver Tier ($6): Read 10 chapters ahead of the public site.
👑 Gold Tier ($9): Get 15-20 chapters ahead of the public site.
💎 Platinum Tier ($15): The ultimate experience. Get new chapters the second I finish them . No waiting for weekly drops, just pure, instant access.
Your support helps me write more .
👉 Find it all at patreon.com/fanficwriter1